Fame
by hey.moon.hello.goodbye
Summary: The Manhattan Performing Arts Academy is the best performing arts high school in the country. When twelve very different and very talented students are thrown together, what will happen? AU-ish, multiple pairings. Chapter Four: The Glee Club
1. Audition Day

It was Saturday, the third week in August. Most New York City residents had abandoned the scorching city for cooler seaside destinations, but the city had just gained over ten thousand students for the day.

All these students were heading to the Manhattan Performing Arts Academy for audition day. The school was the most competitive performing arts high school in the whole country, one of the best in the world. Almost every graduate went to join a ballet company, or got a record deal, or headed to Broadway, or made the first stand of cellos in the New York Philharmonic.

Rachel Berry considered this day one of the most important days of her fourteen years so far. (It would come in second, of course, when she starred in her first Broadway musical.) And she was _late._

Rachel grew up on Long Island, but she'd never gotten used to the city's traffic. Of course she couldn't catch a taxi, so she was throwing herself across the street and weaving through beeping cars. Drivers stuck their heads out their windows and hollered foreign curses at her.

Finally, she caught sight of the academy and ran through the doors. Nervous-looking kids were walking around, looking for the practice rooms. Rachel quickly spotted the sign-in desk. She shoved her forms at the disgruntled-looking woman there and said quickly, "Rachel Berry, singing."

The woman glared at her and put on a pair of glasses, examining the form. "Down there, second room on the left," she said curtly. "That's your practice room. Your audition time is at eleven. Someone will call for you."

"Thank you," Rachel said, grabbing the forms from the woman and rushing down the hallway.

The room was fairly crowded. A curvy black girl was doing voice exercises near the window (mi mi mi MI mi mi mi…), an Asian boy was stretching in the other corner. There were two pianos, one of which was being used by a tall brown-haired girl. Nervous butterflies in her stomach, Rachel opened her mouth and began to sing.

*~*~*~*~*

In one of the other practice rooms, Finn Hudson was sweating and drumming on his knees. He let his wrists fall into their usual rhythm as he warmed up for his audition at the MPAA.

Damn, was it hot here. He'd come to New York City once before, April vacation of seventh grade. It had been fun and there had been good weather. It wasn't this hot back in Ohio, where he was from.

He wasn't nervous, not really. He'd prepared well for this. All he could do now was his best, take it or leave it.

The door opened and everyone looked up, quickly relaxing when it was only another student. The kid was muscular, probably played football like Finn, and had his hair shaved in a Mohawk. He went over and sat next to Finn. "Some hot chicks at this school, huh, dude?" he said, eyeing the Hispanic girl a few feet from them who was stretching her feet over her head.

Finn nodded and stopped drumming for a second. "I've got a girlfriend."

"She go here?"

Again, he nodded. "Yeah, she's a dancer. Her name's Quinn Fabray." Finn nodded. "I'm Finn, by the way. Finn Hudson. Doing drumming, obviously."

The kid nodded. "Cool. And I'm Noah Puckerman, but everyone calls me Puck. I'm doing guitar." He gestured at the case by his feet. "Good luck, man."

"You too." Finn grinned at Puck and went back to drumming.

*~*~*~*~*

Artie Abrams arrived at his assigned practice room and wheeled his chair a few feet away from the piano someone was using. He turned around and grabbed his guitar off the back of his wheelchair and began tuning it.

Everyone in the room had turned to look at him when his wheels squeaked at the door. Some looked surprised and some amused, like a cripple couldn't play an instrument.

Well, almost everyone had turned. The Asian girl playing the piano was still fully immersed in her music, something classical. Her long fingers flew across the keys and Artie envied her concentration.

She was wearing a black dress and Converse sneakers and had blue streaks in her hair. A curvy girl walked over and sat on the piano bench beside her, and the girl stopped playing and smiled at the other girl.

Clearly, they knew each other from before. The black girl squeezed the piano player's arm and said, "You'll do great, Tina."

Tina smiled and said, "Th-thanks, you'll p-probably do b-better than me."

"Girl, you trippin'! No one plays the keys like you, sweetheart. Get real."

"No one sings l-like you, Mercedes," Tina said shyly.

It was then that Mercedes noticed Artie. She turned to him and said, "Hey. Who're you?"

He blinked. "Artie Abrams, guitar. You?"

She shot him a thousand-watt smile. "Mercedes Jones, pipes." She elbowed Tina not-so-secretly.

Tina blushed. "T-Tina Cohen-Chang, piano."

"You're good," Artie said without thinking. "At the piano, I mean."

Suddenly, the door opened and everyone froze. A small, red-haired woman with wide eyes called, "Tina Cohen-Chang?"

"Damn it," Tina whispered, jumping up from the bench and hurrying over.

"Tina, your music!" Mercedes said, waving the sheet music in the air and holding it out to her friend.

Tina blushed, grabbed it and said, "G-good luck, b-both of you!" She hurried out of the room after the red-haired woman and once again, tension filled the room.

*~*~*~*~*

Kurt Hummel stood in the spotlight on the stage, watching his judge shuffle papers. "Name?" the woman asked.

"Kurt Hummel."

"Here," the woman said, holding out a piece of paper. "Perform this, then."

Kurt walked forwards and took the paper, scanning it over. "Shakespeare?" he asked incredulously. "Hamlet's _Soliloquy?"_ She couldn't have asked for a harder monologue for Kurt to perform.

The woman raised an eyebrow. "At MPAA, we take only the best and most talented students. If you aren't willing to be one of those students, the door is that way."

Kurt nodded and walked to the center of the stage. He'd seen _Hamlet_ tons of times, of course; what type of play junkie hadn't? He'd just never performed it. Clearing his throat, he began. "'To be, or not to be – _that_ is the question: whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune…'"

The woman stopped him halfway through. "Thank you," she said, turning back to the papers on the table. "Now… it says here that you sing. Is that true?"

"A little."

The woman held out a hand for the paper with Hamlet's Soliloquy on it and gave Kurt a second paper. "Just sing the chorus of this."

"Mr. Cellophane" from _Chicago._ Kurt suppressed a smile as he returned to the spotlight; he loved _Chicago._ "_Cellophane, Mr. Cellophane, should've been my name, Mr. Cellophane, 'cause you can look right through me, walk right by me, and never know I'm there…_"

"Stop there," the woman said curtly. She looked up at Kurt and said, "Congratulations. New students are to move into their dormitory on Memorial Day weekend, and classes start September first." She held out her hand with a third paper; when Kurt took it, he found it to be an acceptance.

*~*~*~*~*

Tina's adjudicator was a man approaching old age, possibly sixty or so, with white hair and a wrinkled face. He was still lean, though, and had the air of a much younger man.

Tina sat down at the piano bench and removed her arm warmers from her shaking hands, placing them on top of the piano. Then, she arranged her sheet music in front of her.

The man watched her, a slight frown on his face. "Tina Cohen-Chang," he said.

She wasn't sure whether this was a question or a statement, so she just nodded.

"What are you playing today?"

"B-Bach Concerto, in D Minor?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that a _question,_ Miss Cohen-Chang?"

Personally she didn't think he should be talking about question-versus-statement clarification, but she shook her head and whispered, "N-no, s-sir."

"Well, then, go on now."

Tina examined the music and listened for the tempo in her head. When she'd found it, she began the piece, plunking out the notes. The music sounded uniform and she shut her eyes, trying to capture the beauty she'd always wanted to play with.

"Stop."

She did, removing her hands from the keys and sitting on them. She couldn't bare to look at her traitorous fingers, who had played this piece perfectly just moments before in the practice room and now were butchering it in front of her judge.

The man looked at her over his wire-rimmed glasses and said, "That was excellent. Congratulations, Miss Cohen-Chang. I will expect you on September first in my classroom."

Tina's jaw dropped and she grabbed her sheet music and the acceptance he was holding out to her. "Th-thank you, sir."

*~*~*~*~*

Santana Lopez and Brittany Hoffman were stretching along with the other forty hopefuls in the dance studio when the head dance instructor stalked into the room. She was a severe-looking woman, with a short blonde haircut and fit body. "Line up," she barked, "Now!"

Everyone scrambled into position and the woman turned on the stereo, smooth classical music starting. "Pirouettes, now! One at a time!"

The first girl in line started her pirouettes off-time and she wasn't spotting. The instructor grabbed her shoulder and shoved her to the door, the girl clearly eliminated. "Next!"

Santana and Britney exchanged a glance. This woman was clearly insane. Britney squeezed Santana's hand once, quickly, right before Santana started her pirouettes across the floor.

The woman watched closely but apparently found no fault in Santana's or Britney's pirouettes. This system progressed: the instructor calling out moves and eliminating people who were unable to complete them.

Finally, there were only ten people left including Santana and Britney, all of them sweating and exhausted. "September first," the instructor called. "My name is Miss Sylvester. I expect you in my dance studio by eight thirty. Go!"

*~*~*~*~*

By the end of the day, one hundred and fifty new students had been accepted. On Sunday, fifty to one hundred more would join them. For now, the stress was over. But what these new aspiring stars didn't know was that their lives were just beginning.

**Please review! **


	2. Orientation

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! I really appreciate the feedback I've been getting on this story. Here's chapter two… tell me what you think. **

The day before September first is orientation for new students and also the day everyone moves into their new dorms. Rachel Berry was on time, and she was glad. There was no reason for her to get sweat on her new blouse. She smoothed down her plaid skirt as she walked towards the auditorium and took a seat beside a Hispanic girl, who rolled her eyes and turned to the blonde on her left.

Two conversing girls were walking down the aisle towards her. Rachel recognized the curvy black girl, who had been singing in the practice room on audition day. She was accompanied by an Asian girl with blue streaks in her hair. They seemed to be talking about what they were going to do to their dorm room.

"Mercedes, w-we are _not_ p-painting it g-gold," the Asian girl said, stuttering a little.

"Well, we're not painting it black, either, Tina…"

They took a seat beside her, and the Asian girl – Tina – started talking again. "Mercedes, w-we haven't even s-seen it yet, or our other r-roommate, w-we'll decide then."

"Hello," Rachel said. "What room are you guys in?"

Mercedes glanced at her paper and said, "Floor 3, Room C."

Rachel's eyes widened. "Me, too! I guess we're roommates, then?"

Tina and Mercedes nodded. "C-cool," Tina said. "Th-this is so w-weird," she added, gesturing to the auditorium.

"I know," Mercedes said.

"I think it's exciting," Rachel gushed. "I look forward to some healthy competition between our fellow classmates and many learning experiences in the next four years, Don't you?"

Tina's eyes widened and Mercedes' face got a funny look on it. "Uh, yeah," Mercedes said. "Something like that."

Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd of students as a man stepped on the stage. He spoke in an Indian accent. "Hello, students. Congratulations on your acceptance to the Manhattan Performing Arts Academy. You are among the most talented young people in the country, and right now there are a million different paths you could take. Whether you want to star on Broadway, or join a modern dance company, or become a concert cellist – this school and its faculty will lead the way. Nothing at this school will come easily. You will work long and hard and you _will_ succeed."

The incoming freshman around Rachel shifted and murmured to their neighbors. She sat ramrod straight and debated whether or not to take notes.

"Monday through Thursday, you will have your academic classes before lunch. If you fail two or more classes in the period of a year, you will be expelled." The speaker – Principal Figgins, Rachel remembered – paused to let this sink in. "You will have your arts classes after lunch. That means dance classes, music theory, community and private lessons, acting classes, and singing. This school has only the finest instructors who I'm sure you'll all become very familiar with. On Fridays, you have study hall in the morning and your arts classes throughout the afternoon. Classes start at eight o'clock in the morning and end at three thirty. The cafeteria is open for breakfast and dinner, but you may also eat in your dorms. Curfew on school nights is ten, on the weekend eleven thirty. All rooms will be checked for lights out."

Principal Figgins went on to talk about policies – dress codes, drug and alcohol tolerance, etcetera – but most people had stopped listening. Finally they were dismissed and sent to move into their dorm rooms.

*~*~*~*~*

As Puck walked to the boy's dorm, he hoisted his bag higher over his shoulder and winked at a girl he'd seen on audition day – Santana, her name was. She smiled flirtatiously and swished her ponytail around in the air, looping her arm through her friend Brittany's and walking away towards the girl's dorms. He chuckled to himself; he definitely still had it.

His roommates were already in their dorm when he arrived. One of them was a cripple in a wheelchair and the other was a tall black guy whose name was either Mike or Matt.

"Hey," Mike-or-Matt called out when he shut the door. "'Sup."

Puck dropped his stuff on the last remaining bed, the one closest to the door. "Nothing. I'm Noah Puckerman. Puck."

Wheelchair kid raised a hand in greeting and said, "Artie Abrams."

"And I'm Matt Rutherford," Matt said – _I knew it was one of the two,_ Puck thought.

After a few minutes of brief conversation, Puck found out that Artie played the guitar and Matt was a dancer. Puck tried not to snort at this, but Matt quickly said that he was _strictly hip-hop, man, only do the girly shit when the teach makes me and my man Mike_ (so there _was_ a Mike somewhere!).

Both of them were pretty cool. Sure, Artie was a total nerd – who wore a belt and suspenders, anyway? – and Puck knew you had to have ballet training to get into this school, but he could've gotten worse roommates.

Plus, they'd probably have the decency to skip the room if Puck decided to bring back a girl.

Could've been worse.

*~*~*~*~*

She didn't know quite how it happened, but Quinn had ended up with the two most perfect roommates ever.

She knew them already, actually – Santana better than Britney – from dance competitions. They were all taking dance classes and they all felt similarly on certain topics: none of them liked losers, the dance instructor, or dancer's diets.

All of them sat on the floor in front of the beds, the little dorm room TV turned on to _Gossip Girl_ reruns, and talked about where they were from.

Santana Lopez was from Chicago, Illinois. Her parents had moved from Puerto Rico before she was born, but she spoke Spanish and English at home. She had a younger brother who was a pain and obsessed with soccer.

Britney Hoffman was born in a small town in Maryland, but she'd moved to Chicago when she was eleven. She'd moved because her father got a new job. Britney lived with her father instead of her mother because her mom lived in Alaska and she didn't really like cold weather.

Quinn was from Ohio and she told them about her older sister Alice and her postal-worker husband (at least, that's what she thought he did), her boyfriend Finn who played the drums and also attended MPAA, and her quiet life back in rural Ohio. All three of them were excited to be in New York City, and excited for their classes tomorrow.

Yeah, it definitely couldn't have been better.

*~*~*~*~*

Finn was almost one hundred percent sure that Kurt Hummel was gay.

He wasn't sure whether it was the play-and-musical obsession or the four giant suitcases filled with designer clothes that tipped him off. It also could've been the fact that he knew and talked freely about things like cuticles and T-zones.

He was pretty sure it was the clothes.

Finn and Kurt were also sharing a room with Mike Chang, a tall Asian dancer. He was pretty cool, and he and Finn talked about football while Kurt put his clothes away.

Kurt was doing acting, which kind of explained his play obsession. Finn figured out that Mike was friends with Matt Rutherford, who was one of Puck's roommates.

Finn wondered how Quinn was getting along with her roommates. She would probably get along with them well as long as they weren't lame. Quinn was great, but she just didn't get along with people who were different. This both reassured and bothered Finn.

Carefully, he took his drum sticks and drumming pad out from his backpack and put them in front of him on his bed. He went through his warm-up rhythms and made a mental note to call his mom before bed. She'd want to know how he was settling in and, though he'd never admit it, he was a little bit homesick.

*~*~*~*~*

It was already nine o'clock. Mercedes, Tina and Rachel had already changed into their pajamas, and Mercedes grabbed her laptop to check her email.

"So, how do you guys know each other?" Rachel asked.

"S-summer camp," Tina said. "We were b-bunkmates at th-this overnight camp for m-music."

"Good times," Mercedes added, grinning at Tina.

"Where are you guys from?" Rachel asked.

"What is this, twenty questions?"

Tina glared at Mercedes and answered, "I'm from B-Boston. Mercedes is from Rhode Island. Wh-what about you?"

"Long Island," Rachel said proudly. "My two gay dads are very excited and I think they are secretly pleased the school is in such a close proximity. That means they can come to all of my performances."

Tina nodded and started braiding her hair. The only email in Mercedes' inbox was from her older brother Josh, who pretty much said good luck and to tell him all about it. She shot him a simple reply and shut her laptop.

Tina was now looking over her biology textbook. Mercedes groaned. "Tina, you are such a nerd."

Tina looked up. "Wh-what? I d-don't want t-to n-not know wh-what to d-do in Bio."

"That's a double negative," Rachel pointed out. "You should really say 'I want to know what to do in Bio.' I find grammar much more important than most subjects in schools today. Speaking the English language correctly is so important, and I feel it's being lost in America's youth today."

Mercedes and Tina exchanged a glance. Making her less annoying could be harder than they'd originally thought.


	3. First Day

**A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the reviews and alerts! It's nice to know that people are enjoying this. Anyway, here's chapter three. Please review. **

Matt's academic classes went fast enough on the first day of school, with the usual lag of math class. (Really, what was the use of slope, anyway? It's not like he was ever going to go into a career of drawing _graphs,_ or anything.) He and Mike had stopped by their lockers to grab their dance bags and were heading to lunch.

"I wonder what we're having," Mike wondered aloud.

Matt snorted. "Probably nothing good. You seen Puck and Finn anywhere?"

Mike shrugged. "I dunno. Saw Puck earlier in class."

They arrived at the cafeteria. It was then they realized that whatever they'd been expecting was completely false. In their old school, you'd gotten a crappy lunch, sat down and that was that, with the occasional office detention or food fight sprinkled in.

Here, kids were sitting on the tables and walking around. People weren't doing too much eating; rather, they were putting on their pointe shoes or practicing the trombone or running through lines with their friends. There was a bar where you grabbed your pre-packed lunch, no lunch lady in sight.

Mike and Matt grinned at each other. "This is _wicked,_" Matt said, eyes widening and smile spreading further across his face.

"Oh, _totally_."

*~*~*~*~*

By the time lunchtime rolled around, Kurt was starving.

The hubbub in the cafeteria didn't faze him; he'd gone to a performing elementary and middle school, so this was like second nature to him. He quickly grabbed a lunch and then was hit by a chilling reality. He didn't know anyone at this school and had no idea who to sit with.

So he did the sensible thing: grabbed the seat across from the best-dressed person he saw. This happened to be a curvy black girl, probably in his grade. She had on a white shirt and a black vest, along with tailored pants and red shoes.

Crap, were those _Gucci?!_

Formally, he held out a hand to her. "Kurt Hummel, acting," he introduced himself.

She shook her hand and grinned, flipping her short hair. "Mercedes Jones, voice. Nice to meet you, Kurt." Then, she leaned forward and said, "This is totally weird, right?"

He shook his head and daintily started unwrapping his sandwich. "I went to a performing arts school before. It was like this, too."

Another girl walked up and timidly said, "C-can I s-s-sit h-here?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes and gestured at the chair next to her. "Well, _duh_, Tina. Didn't I say we'd eat together today?" She turned to Kurt. "This is my girl Tina. She's shy."

Kurt raised an eyebrow (a perfectly waxed eyebrow, not that anyone was counting) and murmured, "I can see that. Hello, Tina. I'm Kurt."

She sat and peeked at Kurt from behind the thick curtain of her hair, blushing and smiling hesitantly. Kurt noticed with a wince that she was wearing both a black dress and purple tights, along with fishnet arm warmers. "What are you studying?" he asked, trying to make conversation.

"Piano," she answered. "What about you?"

"Acting." He glanced behind the girls and rolled his eyes. "Oh, come _on_," he complained, eyeing someone walking behind them. "That girl should _not_ be allowed to dress herself. There is too much denim. And plaid. And _polka dots_, it looks like a toddler's wardrobe threw up on her!"

Mercedes and Tina turned simultaneously, and both laughed, spotting the girl he was talking about. He and Mercedes then struck up a conversation about their favorite trends for fall (he _knew_ he'd chosen the right well-dressed person to sit with) while Tina marked up some complicated-looking sheet music and added the occasional word in edgewise.

And Kurt couldn't help but smile, because he'd already passed the first real test of high school: making friends. (And it didn't hurt that said friends had _really_ cute shoes.)

*~*~*~*~*

Brittany knew she wasn't very smart. Or smart at all, actually. She always followed what Santana told her and that seemed to work out pretty good.

So she was surprised, to say the least, during dance class when Ms. Sylvester yelled for her and someone she called Chang to start the class off with partner dancing.

Santana pushed her out on the floor and she almost crashed into "Chang", who shot her a lopsided grin and grabbed her hand, starting out a random tango. She smiled, a genuine smile as always, and said, "I'm Brittany."

"I'm Mike," he replied as she spun out and fell into some complicated footwork, spinning back in. "Cool moves," he commented as the music sped up. "Not as cool as mine, though."

Brittany laughed and said, "You wish!" That was something Santana said a lot when she flirted with guys. Brittany wondered if it was working.

She didn't really know what to do now, so she combined different types of dance; modern, ballet, tap, and some she'd only watched. Matt spun her gracefully through the air and she said, "You're good."

He laughed. "You are, too."

Her already broad smile widened and she wanted to shout, because she felt so happy, dancing with this nice boy and showing off her moves to the entire class (who were now watching their every move). She settled for throwing her head back and laughing, making Mike laugh, too.

"Fabray, Rutherford!" Ms. Sylvester ordered, gesturing for Mike and Brittany to leave the floor. They did so willingly, going back to join Santana. They sat on the floor and joked as quietly as possible, ignoring the withering stares from Ms. Sylvester as couple after couple hit the floor, none dancing as joyously as Matt and Brittany.

*~*~*~*~*

The teacher of Tina's piano lesson turned out to be the same man who'd overseen her audition. Mr. Booth was sitting in the desk across from the piano, grading what might've been music theory papers. Tina was glad she'd been put in another music theory class; Mr. Booth scared her a little bit and it was hard enough having private and class piano lessons with him.

"Sit," he ordered. "Play that Bach we've been working on in class."

Tina dug through her messenger bag and retrieved the sheet music. She set it on the stand and started playing.

Mr. Booth tapped out the rhythm with his fingers, and when she sped up a little, he grabbed a textbook and began ramming it out on the desktop.

"Okay, stop," Mr. Booth sighed. "Tempo, Miss Cohen-Chang. Keep your fingers light, don't drag. This is Bach, not funeral music. From the beginning," he commanded.

Tina began again, trying to play extra slow but rushing instead. "Tempo," Mr. Booth said loudly.

_I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,_ she thought, stopping and starting again, this time at the correct speed.

After the long hour and a half, she was dismissed and left the room, fighting back tears. In the hallway was Artie, who slowed and stared at her curiously. "Tina," he said, in way of greeting, "Are you okay?"  
She wiped under her eyes, being careful not to smudge her eyeliner. "O-of c-course I a-a-am," she sniffed. "Wh-why would y-y-you th-think I w-w-wasn't?"

"Well, it sorta looks like you're crying," he said, looking kind of confused. "Wait, you _are_ crying."

Tina rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I'm f-fine, Artie. Th-thanks."

"Where are you headed?" he asked, rolling beside her as she walked slowly down the near-empty halls.

"Th-the a-auditorium," she answered, tears completely disappeared and sheet music held tight to her chest. "I h-have another l-l-lesson t-tomorrow and I h-h-have to g-get this p-piece p-perfectly." She shot him a quick grin, and no one could mistake the determination in her expression as she spun off towards the piano in the auditorium. "S-see you l-l-later," she called over her shoulder.

*~*~*~*~*

Mr. Schuester had finished up his last class of the day and was trying desperately to organize his already cluttered office. He'd foolishly decided last June that the mess could wait until the new year, and now he had to deal with it.

He threw all the papers left over from last year into the recycling bin. None of the returning students would care about last year's grades, anyway. There wasn't any use in keeping them.

He also cleaned out his drawers of old candy wrappers (Mr. Schuester admitted it; he was a candyholic. He practically inhaled the stuff).

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "Come in," he called, guiltily shoving the wrappers further down in the trash bin.

Emma, the wide-eyed, red-headed guidance counselor and dorm coordinator, opened the door and peeked in. She smiled brightly and chirped, "Hi, Will! Having a good first day back?"

He smiled and replied, "You could say that."

She sighed. "I've had a tough day, too. Well, you know what they say, first is the worst after all." She paused and glanced uneasily at his messy desk.

"Sorry," he apologized, remembering her germaphobic tendencies. "I forgot to clean up last year. Anyway, did you need anything?"

"Oh!" She smiled. "Yes. I came to tell you that Sandy Ryderson, the man who ran Glee club for the past five years? He's been fired. Something shady, I heard. Figgins is looking for a replacement, and I remembered you liked to sing. I thought maybe you should talk to him about it." Casting another glance at his dirty office, she nodded. "I'm sorry, but I have to go finish up some forms for the new freshman. Busy day, after all. Bye, Will."

_Glee club…_ he thought. Maybe it was worth a shot.

*~*~*~*~*

I was wondering, what are your guy's favorite Glee characters?


	4. Glee

The sign-up sheet appeared on the bulletin board outside the cafeteria, next to an audition notice for the senior musical and a notice about viola lessons. Mercedes saw it first, stared at it for a few minutes, and promptly walked away, the blank paper already forgotten.

That is, until Rachel brought it up the next morning.

Mercedes was brushing gold eye shadow on her eyelids, examining herself closely in the mirror. She could see Tina in her peripheral vision, who was trying to lace up her combat boots and put on arm warmers at the same time. (Honestly, it was becoming impossible to try to get that girl to wear anything _normal._ At least she was better than Rachel's toddler-slash-grandma ensembles.)

"I think I'm going to join the Glee club," Rachel announced, tucking a textbook into her polka-dotted backpack.

Tina and Mercedes looked at each other. "Why?" Mercedes asked.

"Well," Rachel said, "ensemble groups usually aren't my thing – I'm made to be a star, after all – but maybe it'll be fun, and it will look excellent when I set my sights on Broadway."

Tina's mouth was open, and she was looking between Mercedes and Rachel mechanically, looking foolish. Mercedes rolled her eyes at her and said, "Huh," to Rachel.

Rachel straightened up and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Ready to go?"

"We ain't done here," Mercedes said, raising an eyebrow. "You do understand that Glee club will put you even lower on the popularity totem pole than you already are, right."

"None of us are very popular here," Rachel pointed out. "Plus, having more friends couldn't hurt, don't you think? You two should seriously consider joining as well."

"W-wow, l-look at the t-time," Tina said nervously. "T-time for first p-period."

*~*~*~*~*

Finn noticed it second.

He brought it up with Puck when they were hanging out on a bench outside the dorms, rating the girls who walked past. "Maybe I'll join the Glee club," he said casually. Then, in response to Puck's "seven" about one of the sophomore girls, he added, "Six point five."

"Dude, serious?" Puck said, looking disbelieving. "There's only gonna be, like, losers in it. No hot milf is gonna join _Glee club_."

"Well, I have a girlfriend," Finn pointed it out. "And maybe it'll be, I dunno, fun."

"I think you're crazy," Puck said flatly. Then: "Eight."

"Huh?"

Puck smacked his arm and pointed not-so-subtly at a leggy blonde exiting the dormitory. She shot them a dirty look and took out her cell phone. "That chick, dude. What'd you rate her?"

"Oh." Finn paused. "Nine. I think you should join Glee too."

"Hell no."

"Why not?" Finn pressed. "I thought you were an alright singer. Plus you could just do backup, and play your guitar or something."

Puck paused and then repeated, "Hell no."

"C'mon, man," Finn said, his voice bordering on pleading. "Quinn's going to do it."

"And I care, why?"

Finn grinned. "Well, if Quinn's doing something, Brittany and Santana probably are, too."

Puck groaned.

*~*~*~*~*

If there was one thing Matt was good at doing, it was staying in the background. Sure, he was popular; he hung out with Puck and Finn and the rest, but no one ever really noticed him. They'd slap him on the back and say "Hey, Rutherford" or whatever and he'd grin at them and nod, or whatever. He'd chill on the outside of the group with his friend Mike and laugh along with the others as they tortured the less popular kids at school. He'd chip in money to throw slushies at Rachel Berry or those girls she was always hanging around with, and he'd flirt with Santana like he was supposed to.

The one thing he was really passionate for was dancing. There was something awesome about moving to the beat of a song. (It didn't hurt that it totally impressed girls.) Sometimes he wanted to turn on a CD and dance all day.

So he saw the sign and he thought, _What the hell,_ and almost signed his name before he realized he didn't have a pen. Quickly, he found Mike and said, "Hey, man, lend me a pen."

Mike looked confused. "It's a Saturday, why would you need a pen on a Saturday?"

Matt rolled his eyes and almost pointed out the fact that there was homework and

lists and even giving chicks his number but instead said, "I'm signing up for Glee club. You should too."

"Dude, serious?! You're gonna get, like, murdered. It's gonna be like _Kill Bill,_ both of them. And you'll be like Porscha from _James Bond,_ too!"

"Her name was Vespa," Matt corrected. "And no, I won't. I'm just doing it for the dancing, though if you tell anyone that I might have to go all _Kill Bill_ on you."

"You just stole my movie reference!" Mike protested. "Asshole."

Matt sighed. "Can I just have a goddamn pen?"

Mike shook his head. "If you're gonna go over to the side of the losers, I can't let you go alone. We're bros. Let's go put our names on the freakin' list."

*~*~*~*~*

By the end of the week, there were twelve names on the sign-up sheet. Will looked them over carefully. At the top, written in neat cursive and followed by a gold star, was the name of Rachel Berry. Below that was Finn Hudson, a somewhat clueless drummer, Noah Puckerman, whom everyone called Puck, Mercedes Jones, an extroverted fashionista from his music theory class, Kurt Hummel, a boy he didn't know well personally but had heard was quite the diva, Tina Cohen-Chang, a shy stuttering goth who was one of the best in Mr. Booth's piano class, Artie Abrams, a handicapped who played the guitar, Quinn Fabray, a popular dancer who was dating Finn Hudson, Santana Lopez and Britney Hoffman (written on the same line), two talented dancers and Quinn's backup, and lastly, Mike Chang and Matt Rutherford, also dancers who Will had yet to meet in person. It wasn't much, only twelve people, but it was all they needed. He took this list down and replaced it with a notice of the first Glee club meeting.

Then, he walked to Emma's office. "I've got a Glee club," he announced, sitting down in the chair across from her desk and grinning like a maniac.

**Sort of a filler, I'm so sorry for the long wait! I'll try to write another chapter soon and post it sometime in the next few days. School is really busting my butt lately… again, thanks for all the reviews/favorites/alerts! **

**I have a question for you guys. Do you think I should have the Glee club sing the songs they sing on the show? Or should I use new songs? Suggestions? **

**Thanks for reading! **


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